


loving you is free

by aquaexplicit



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Creep factor, Eobard Becomes Cisco's Sugar Daddy Accidentally But Is Into It, M/M, Possessiveness, Power Imbalance, Pre-Series, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 01:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12447044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquaexplicit/pseuds/aquaexplicit
Summary: Cisco likes nice things. Eobard likes giving them to him.





	loving you is free

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to darknessandterrorandkittens for talking to me about accidental sugar daddy eobard!

_We_ _know each other well, don't we?_

Of all the ways Eobard had imagined he became close with Cisco Ramon, sitting in a department store while waiting to see the suit Cisco was going to pick out, the suit Eobard would buy, had never occurred to him. He thought perhaps he had been Cisco’s mentor. Friend.

When the frustrations of this barbaric time and the copper ache of living as Harrison Wells was particularly sharp, he’d indulged in thoughts of being even closer.

“What about this one?”

Cisco steps out from the dressing room. Eobard shifts in the leather chair, taking a sip of his water while he drinks Cisco in. The suit is navy, fabric dark and heavy, crafted to fit Cisco almost exactly. It’s a good color on him. Lovely, even.

“It looks almost as good as the last,” Eobard says, teasing, smile growing when Cisco pushes a strand of hair that’s fallen loose from it’s band behind his ear.

“You’re the one who said you wanted to take me shopping for my brother’s big recital.” Cisco squares up in the face of the mirror, straightening his spine and lifting his chin. There is challenge in his stance, in his gaze, all directed in the reflection in front of him. Eobard soaks up the grace of him before standing.

He moves slowly. Everything with Cisco has to be done slowly. The absolute torture of it is raw, an exposed wound that hurts from the inside, and Eobard clings to it. While there is power and comfort in knowing the future, in being sure of victory, the waiting has become dreadfully dull. Cisco has been such a balm. Cool and sweet over Eobard’s restless hunger.

When Eobard settles behind Cisco, he takes a moment to let their gazes meet in the mirror. Cisco doesn’t look away. Eobard smiles and grasps Cisco’s shoulders with sure, strong fingers.

“And I’m enjoying it as much as I've enjoyed our other trips,” Eobard says honestly.

He does enjoy this. Playing benefactor - sugar daddy, Cisco had once called him, drunk on champagne and dining in an exclusive restaurant Eobard had been thrilled to take Cisco to. Giving Cisco everything he wants. Making Cisco feel he can ask for it, then making Cisco ask for it. Showing Cisco that Eobard is the only one who will hear him, see what he wants, make certain he gets it.

Eobard’s hands skim down Cisco’s arms. He doesn’t miss the little shudder Cisco gives under the touch. He doesn’t bother to tuck his pleasure away. They’re dancing closer to something Eobard can’t name but wants. Wants the way he hasn’t wanted in years, the way he hasn't wanted anything other than to be home and to have The Flash’s life wriggling then snuffed between his fingers. It's not nearly as sick or as desperate. There’s no sour after taste in the weight of desire on his tongue. Cisco is too sweet.

“The sleeves are a little long,” Eobard comments, casual, before dipping his fingers under the cuffs to brush Cisco’s wrist. It’s only a breath of contact but it’s enough to make Cisco’s eyes flutter closed. The soft it, water warm and soothing, draws Eobard in. Cisco’s hair is silk against his cheek. “But I can have that taken care of for you, Cisco.”

The promise, the dare, is close enough to that first time Eobard spoke the happy, hot thing between them aloud. There had been a conference, something inconsequential in the truth of history but vital for STAR to attend in this shallow time, and he’d brought Cisco along. That had been the first suit. The first time Eobard treated Cisco to dinner, Big Belly Burger in another city, but Cisco had flushed bright and smiled and thanked him like Eobard had delivered the moon.

Eobard paid for everything that weekend, increasingly fascinated by the glee with which Cisco received it, from the new professional suit jacket to the Vanilla Coke from their hotel vending machine. Until he’d slipped Cisco cash to pay for a taxi. Money in hand, the smile that made Eobard's stomach flutter taut had deflated into something sullen, something ashamed. It only took a meeting for Eobard to sort out the sullen line of Cisco’s spine.

I apologize, Eobard had said, had meant. He had leaned close, breath hot against Cisco’s ear, whispering the truth. I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t understand. But I do now. It isn’t about the money. You like being taken care of.

Cisco had sputtered and flushed the loveliest shade of embarrassed. Had pushed Eobard away until Eobard assured him, quite sincerely, that it was alright. It was alright. Eobard wanted to take care of him.

Now, Eobard is sure he’s the only one who can. Who ever will. Regardless of what explodes or sunders between them. He recalls the narrow slit of Cisco’s eyes from the other side of cell glass, the way Cisco had asked first how he got his suit in his ring before anything else. Cisco will never recover from this.

“Do you think,” Cisco asks, voice low and wool rough. Eobard retracts his touch carefully. The hooks of it are already in Cisco’s skin. Bones. “Do you think they could have the alterations done by Saturday?”

Eobard tilts his head, considering the curve of Cisco’s slim waist. How his hands will curl around it when the blood boils and their tension breaks. He smiles.

“If money is no object they can.”

Cisco smooths his hair again, a nervous gesture. “I don’t know. I still think the last one was the best fit. Don’t you think? Dante is going to look perfect and I - ”

“Will too,” Eobard cuts. “You weren’t this worried when we found you a new suit for the Star City conference.”

“That was a different kind of pressure. I was trying to impress genius billionaires whose opinion of my life’s work could destroy my very will to live. This is my parents.”

“You shouldn’t put so much weight on their opinion. If they can’t recognize your brilliance - ”

“I know, I know,” Cisco sighs. They’ve had this conversation before. “I just - this is important. So please just tell me which suit I look the most devilishly handsome in so we can go do something worthwhile. Like go to the new Pinkberry. Your treat.” Cisco grins.

“Of course,” Eobard grins back. “And I think we should get all three.”

Cisco’s grin falters. “No,” he says. It’s weak, as is all of Cisco’s resistance. “I don’t need all of them. I don’t even have places to wear them.”

“Then we’ll have to go somewhere you can,” Eobard says simply. “The Central City ballet is performing Don Quixote. I do have season tickets.”

Cisco wrinkles his nose. Eobard’s fingers itch to touch him.

“A new restaurant is opening tonight. Very exclusive. Very expensive.”

Cisco’s eyes bleed a little black, a little dark. He swallows and Eobard wonders if it's the phantom taste of high end liquor and soft, buttery meat that coats Cisco’s throat. If it’s another hunger entirely. One that can’t possibly measure Eobard’s own mountainous want.

“That sounds more my style,” Cisco says. He licks his lips. “But you don’t - seriously, Harrison. I don’t need all the suits.”

Eobard notes the careful phrasing.

“No. You don’t need them. But you want them.” Eobard moves in again, predator gentle, hovering so close their skin nearly touches. The electric promise of soon breathes between them. “And what have I told you about things you want, Cisco?”

“To take them.” Cisco closes his eyes again. “I don’t want to take advantage.”

“You didn’t have a problem taking advantage when we went shopping for Ronnie and Caitlyn’s wedding gifts. You cleared out half the registry.”

“That’s different,” Cisco says again, indignant, fire flickering again. “They deserve the world.”

“True. You do as well.”

“Harrison.” There’s a lilt in Cisco’s the voice, the bend before the break. It’s a wonderful tone.

“So I’ll tell Jamison we’ll be taking the first two today. We need, what? Two inches taken from the sleeves?”

Cisco sighs but flexes his hand. “Better make it three.”

“Three it is.”

Eobard moves to find the attendant. Cisco remains in the mirror, watching Eobard now, no subtlety in his gaze. He holds Eobard in stasis. Eobard breaks it, circles back in, orbits Cisco’s shallow breaths and warmth.

“You shouldn’t worry about taking advantage, Cisco,” Eobard says. Cisco doesn’t turn to face him, just holds his eyes in the mirror, body still taut.

We have a history together?

You could say that.

“Why not?” Cisco asks, lips parting on the question, on the breath, on the smell of Eobard so close.

Eobard smiles, indulgent. “Because I intend to take full advantage.” Cisco’s breath stops. Victory dances on the tip of Eobard’s tongue and he lets himself taste it, lets himself lean forward and brush his lips against Cisco’s temple. “You might as well join me.”

He steps back, dragging Cisco along the cliff’s edge. This isn’t the time or the place to lure Cisco over it.

“Get changed. I’ll speak with Jamison.”

Cisco doesn't hesitate. There are no nerves in his smile, only the teases of thrills. He's certain when he speaks.

“I'll need shoes, too, right? To go with the navy. Black will clash.”

“How could I not have realized. Of course you'll need new shoes.”

Cisco smooths the suit jacket, taking another long glance at himself in the mirror. Eobard has the urge to press behind him again, imprint the image of Cisco's blossoming esteem with his own smile, bind them together so Cisco can never have one without the other. He resists, though, knowing it will be a reward for later.

“You're going to spoil me, you know.” Cisco turns his head to smile.

“I'm certainly going to try.”

It's the only lie Eobard has told him so far. Because Eobard isn't going to spoil him; Eobard going to ruin him. He returns Cisco's smile sincerely.

“You're gonna make me worse than Hartley.”

“Now that would be an achievement. Keep the suit on. I'm going to fetch Jamison.”

“Harrison.”

Eobard turns from the doorway. The smile has gentled on Cisco's soft mouth, but not the clarity.

“Thank you,” Cisco says, all doe and dew innocence. “Not just for the suits. I'm gonna pay you back, you know.”

“I know.” He does. It's a knowledge that is marrow deep and wrapped solid with satisfaction.

“Good. Now go get my shoes.”

Eobard nods. He indulges in watching Cisco for a few more breaths, then leaves to find the attendant. Cisco will need new shoes for each suit. He’ll need new shirts and ties. He'll need someone to tie them for him. He'll need someone to tell him how handsome he looks, how worthy he is, then take him apart.

Luckily, Eobard will be by his side. Providing and guiding. Cisco will never need anything else.


End file.
